


Honey understand, we could walk without a plan

by crimsonkitty



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Baseball, In Public, M/M, Public Display of Affection, RPF, San Francisco Giants, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonkitty/pseuds/crimsonkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God, he hates day games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey understand, we could walk without a plan

**Author's Note:**

> Something short I’ve been working on for a little while. Title from ‘Life Less Ordinary’ by Carbon Leaf. Thanks to Courtney and giantsmisfit.

Hunter loves his job, he really does. So much, in fact, that saying he loves it is possibly the understatement of the century. Hunter _lives_ his job and he happens to love it too.

But every once in awhile, when you get the day game after a three hour flight after a day game after a day game and you feel like your brain has been scraped up against a cheese grater and then given to the dog as a chew toy, it gets harder to remember that. 

God, he hates day games.

He squints against the bright sun, wishing he’d remembered his sunglasses back in his locker but not bothered enough to actually go get them just yet. If a stray baseball kills him because he’s zoned out and can’t see it in the sunlight, well at least he went out with his cleats on.

“Oi, wake up.”

Hunter jerks upright and almost trips over his own feet, said spikes sticking and sliding in the wet grass. The only thing that saves him is the hand that suddenly appears, wrapped around his elbow.

Angel is looking at him with a mix of glee and unabashed amusement. “Careful! Oi, I thought Belt was the baby giraffe around here.”

Hunter wills his heart to stop pounding and glares at the man holding him upright. “ _Christ_ , Angel. You always gotta do that?”

"Always, _niño_. You know I live for being your knight in shining armor." Angel taps the top of Hunter’s head with his glove like he always does when they’ve won or he’s feeling affectionate. Come to think of it, he does it a lot.

" _Niño_?” Hunter repeats, fake outrage as he untangles himself from Angel’s hand and his own uncooperative limbs. “Think your math skills might be a little rusty. Last I checked, you were only two years older than me."

“Ah yes, but such years of wisdom and experience that you can not yet hope to replicate.”

Hunter makes a face. “Yeah. Well. I’m still taller than you.”

Angel only raises his eyebrows at him.

“I’m just sayin’!”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Angel lets the smallest of smiles linger on his face as he watches Hunter brush invisible dirt off his uniform. Hunter barely resists the urge to stick his tongue out at him. Instead, the moment goes quiet and soft and comfortable and they enjoy the sun and the various sounds of early morning baseball.

It passes, and Angel shakes his head. “But really, we’re gonna need you today. So at least look a little alive.”

“You need me every day.” And Hunter can not believe he just walked into that one.

Angel shoots him a look that’s all daredevil sly and bad choices, something that hits Hunter right in the gut, twisting and choking him.

He feels the blush running up the back of his neck and can’t even hope to pretend it’s from the heat of the sun.

“I don’t... uh...” He flops around like a fish out of water, flustered shake to his voice that he hates himself for.

Angel laughs, deep belly laughs that echo and he stands there grinning like Hunter is the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Shut up shut up _shut up_.” Hunter hides his eyes from the glare of Angel’s smile, sure his cheeks are teenage red.

“Aw, come on now, _amigo_.” Angel reaches forward to try and ruffle his hair. “You wouldn’t be the first with-”

Hunter mostly loses track of what happens next.

One moment, he’s grabbing at Angel’s arm before it can reach him and he has to suffer the indignity of being pet, and the next his mouth is pressed up against Angel's, stubble scratching against stubble and stream of words being swallowed up by Hunter's lips.

Angel’s mouth is slack with shock and nothing else, air caught up in his chest and Hunter knows this because he can’t feel Angel breathing against his tongue which is _in Angel’s mouth_ and-

The sound Angel makes when Hunter rips away is something he wants to take in and never let go.

Angel stares at him with large eyes, mouth open and pink.

‘ _I did that_ ’ Hunter thinks, hazy absent minded thought that blinks and disappears. He has one hand wrapped around Angel’s elbow and the other one on his hip.

“I didn’t...” he starts and lets go of Angel like his skin is on fire. “Oh.”

The stadium is silent. He doesn’t dare look around. 

“Oh shit,” Hunter says.

He runs.


End file.
